


a little crush (a little touch)

by Midnitedreams



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Age Difference, Doctor/Patient, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, F/M, Hand & Finger Kink, Medical Examination, Medical Kink, Older Man/Younger Woman, Size Difference, Size Kink, Squirting, Underage Sex, Vaginal Fingering, and Knowledge, but also very willing participation, due to age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-25 16:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30091836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnitedreams/pseuds/Midnitedreams
Summary: Mattie twists her sweat-sticky fingers together, presses her knees together, trying to stay still while her heart pounds in her chest.The room smells freshly-cleaned and somehow like cold, if cold could have a smell, anyway. And it is cold, on top of that smell. Like pretty cold, actually, despite the fact she feels like she’s burning hot— or maybe she’s not, she thinks, as she shivers a little. She’s both; hot and cold and shaky with nerves. Like whenever she has to present in class, standing in front of all her classmates, gripping at her report and trying not to stumble over her own words.She feels like that.Or, Mattie's new doctor is her childhood crush, and she isnt sure how she's going to be able to handle that.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	a little crush (a little touch)

**Author's Note:**

> pure dirty guilty pleasure smut. Tagged as underage, though her age is never stated it's implied she's in high school, so 13-17, whatever you're most comfortable with. 
> 
> something i've been wanting to do for a while and finally worked up the nerve as I've never had the guts to post something like this before.  
> I'm curious if there's any interest in this sort of thing, so if you are at all interested in more, drop a quick comment?

* * *

* * *

a little crush (a little touch)

* * *

* * *

Mattie twists her sweat-sticky fingers together, presses her knees together, trying to stay still while her heart pounds in her chest.

The room smells freshly-cleaned and somehow like cold, if _cold_ could have a smell, anyway. And it is cold, on top of that smell. Like pretty cold, actually, despite the fact she feels like she’s burning hot— or maybe she’s not, she thinks, as she shivers a little. She’s _both_ ; hot and cold and shaky with nerves. Like whenever she has to present in class, standing in front of all her classmates, gripping at her report and trying not to stumble over her own words.

She feels like that.

She breathes out, looking over the warm-grey walls and the dark floor. It doesn’t look anything like her normal doctor’s office. Dr. Banton’s rooms were plain white but her walls were covered in bright-coloured posters about kid’s health and all that. Everything smelt medical there, though. She doesn’t miss that smell.

There’s nothing on these walls but warm-grey paint and an abstract painting that looks sort of like a storm, but with warmer colours. The windows let in the September sunlight and show off the view of the sprawling city around them.

It’s nice, but like, a fancy-nice, she thinks. A little bit too nice for a doctor’s office. But then— then Dr. Ashford— Caleb, she thinks, _Caleb—_ was like that too. A bit nicer than most of her father’s friends. A bit younger, too. Dressed nicer. Smelled nicer. Had a nicer smile that she always thought was just for her whenever he used to come over or she used to come to visit her father, at the old practice they used to run together.

 _God_ , she thinks, why did her mom have to pick _him_ to be her new doctor? Just because she’s working for him now… shouldn’t she have a female doctor, anyway? For—

Mattie feels her face burn as she looks at the stirrups on the end of the exam table she’s sitting on. The paper crinkles a little under her as she shifts.

 _Ugh_ , she thinks, and blinks up at the ceiling. He’s going to see her vagina. He’s going to _touch her—_

She rubs her sweaty palms over her thighs, wincing at the stick of the paper underneath her as she shifts and tries not to think about the man who was her first crush who now is going to be her _doctor_.

 _Ugh_ , she thinks.

 _It’ll be fine,_ she tells herself, _it’s been three years since Dad— maybe he got fat. Maybe he’s ugly now. Maybe he won’t even remember you, it’s not like you spent all_ that _much time around him._

Mattie clenches her eyes shut and shakes her head, telling herself that he’s a professional, that he’s a _Doctor_ , that he knows what he’s doing and he’s seen probably thousands of vaginas—

 _Ugh,_ she winces, that doesn’t make her feel any better.

Chewing her lip, she can’t help but wonder if her— if she has a nice— she’s looked at herself before, of course, she knows what her vagina looks like, her and her friends have all talked about periods and shaving and all that, but…

Is it weird to hope you have a nice-looking vagina?

She winces, _probably, you freak._

There’s a knock on the door and it startles her, kicking her heart up into her throat and leaving it beating too hard and too quick as Caleb— _Dr. Ashford_ pushes into the room.

He smiles at her, and Mattie’s heart plummets into her stomach because _oh no— oh no—_

He’s somehow even _better_ looking than she remembered him being when she was younger. Just as tall and broad and strong-looking, in his white-button up and dark trousers as she sees him in her head in her memories.

 _Oh no_ , she thinks and feels a bit like she might cry or throw up. Or _both._

“Hello, Mattie,” he says and his voice is lower and warmer than she remembers, even though she knows he’s said that exact thing so many times to her when she was a kid… if feels different now.

“Hi,” she forces out, swallowing thickly and twisting her fingers together before tucking them under her thighs and swinging her leg instead, trying to fight her nerves. “Hi, Dr. Ashford.”

He smiles again, leaning against the desk that sits against the wall across from her, her files on a clipboard in his hands. “Caleb’s fine, Mattie, I don’t think you’ve ever called me Dr. Ashford, no need to start now. Even if it’s been a few years and you’re all grown up now.”

She nods and looks down at her lap, chewing her cheek. “Okay.”

“You’ve been up in Maine with your mother’s family, right?”

Mattie nods, knowing he must know that and he’s just trying to be nice because she’s obviously nervous. Just over two years since they left New York, three since… since her dad died, three years since the funeral and the last time she saw Caleb. Sitting next to him in a church pew, his hand warm and large around hers while she cried.

Her mother had packed them both up to Maine not long after that, Mattie hadn’t put up much of fight, even though every bit of her hadn’t wanted to leave the place she lived with Dad.

But Mom had been… bad.

But honestly, Mattie thinks, she isn’t sure she’s ever gotten much better. At least now they’re back in the city and maybe Mom’s over-protectiveness will fade a little. Not every cut or scrape or sore-stomach means Mattie’s _dying._

“You’re just starting at Saint Mary’s, aren’t you? How’s that?”

Mattie winces and nods. “Yeah…it’s different, it’s a private school, you know? But my grandparents really wanted me to go, so…” she trails off.

He nods, and Mattie looks at him, at the steady blue of his eyes, and his perfectly styled dark-brown hair, the little bit of stubble on his jaw.

He doesn’t look like a doctor, she thinks, more like… like some businessman or actor. She remembers him, in a t-shirt in the summer, a beer in his hand, lounging on their back patio while her father barbequed. He’d always looked so cool. So grown-up and confident and sure of himself.

“Kids treating you alright, though? Coming into a new school can be hard.”

Mattie nods, “Yeah, they’re nice. I’ve made some friends.”

“That’s good, I’m glad.” He taps his thumb against the side of the clipboard he’s holding, looking down at it. “And your health? Any concerns?”

She shakes her head, watching as he flips through her chart; it goes quiet between them and she looks at his face, his shoulders, his hands on the clipboard. His fingers turning a page.

 _Stupid crush_ , she thinks and feels her face warming.

He pushes up, and Mattie darts her eyes away from him, swallowing around her nerves, and looking down at her sneakers; her shoelace is a little loose, it flops when she swings her foot, her nerves spiking higher.

She watches him move to the tall dark-wood cabinets along the far wall, he pulls one open, and pulls out a hospital gown. He walks closer to her, standing tall and broad in front of her, holding the gown out. Mattie takes it, unsticking her hands from beneath her thighs and flushing at the sound they make, coming off the crinkly paper as her weight shifts.

“There’s a bathroom,” he tilts his head, “just there, if you could slip this on, we can get started.”

Mattie nods and moves to slip forward, Caleb— Dr. Ashford puts out a hand to help her, and his hand is just as warm and big as she remembers, but it makes her nerves even more unsteady and she stumbles, but his other hand curls around her upper arm and he holds her steady until she finds her feet.

“Easy,” he says lightly, with a hint of humour in his voice that makes her cheeks burn even hotter, somehow.

She can’t look up at him, her cheeks burning so bright she’s sure she looks like a tomato. Darting around him she squeaks a _sorry_ and slips into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her.

The bathroom is cold and she rests her forehead against the sink, breathing in the cold, clean smell and willing her body to calm down. Stupid, she thinks, _stupid, stupid crush._

After a minute, Mattie pushes up and unfolds the gown, it’s big and white and has little hooks along the front. She bites her cheek and forces herself to put it down, hanging it over the edge of the sink and reaching for her t-shirt hem. Trying not to think, she strips it off and then shucks her jean shorts… hesitating before reaching back to unhook the back of her bra, a plain white cotton that matches her underwear.

Her mother won’t let her buy anything nicer and Mattie hasn’t worked up the nerve to sneak anything into the house yet, even though she wants to, every time she's actually allowed to go shopping with her friends, and sees all the cute things they buy.

She snaps the bra off; her underwear puddles around her socked-toes next and she steps out of it, folding it up with her bra and them tucking it into her shirt and jeans. She catches sight of herself in the mirror and runs a hand through her hair to fix her ponytail, mussed from tearing off her t-shirt.

She looks stupid, she thinks, flushed and naked and shivering in the bathroom, her stomach tight with nerves because of a stupid childhood crush.

Caleb’s always been so cool to her, and she’s… short and skinny and probably the flattest girl in her year. Nothing like Sara or Whitney, or even Dawn, who’s an enviable b-cup, at least.

She looks down at herself in the mirror, she’s small and pale and her nipples are hard as she shivers; she looks further down and wonders if it’s weird she shaved. Should she have let it grow in? Everyone was saying they were shaving but… is it weird? No one’s even seen her naked, she just—

She drops her head back and pushes out a breath before she reaches for the gown, hoping her nipples won’t be so obvious once she gets it on. 

It’s softer than she expected, but it’s short and thin and she fumbles with the little hooks on the front until she gets them all done up.

 _What about my socks,_ she wonders, looking down at her feet and wiggling her toes on the dark floor. Does it look stupid with just socks on? Or would she look weird, taking off her socks? He’s not inspecting her _feet_.

Pushing out another breath, Mattie pulls a face at herself in the mirror before forcing herself to suck it up and just… get it over with.

The door clicks open and Mattie slips back into the room, Caleb— Dr. Ashford— she doesn’t know what to call him— is sitting on the office chair in front of the computer, her file open next to his elbow.

He looks over to her when she walks in and she feels herself flush, no matter how much she wishes she wouldn’t.

“All good?” he asks, watching her as she nods and slips back over to the table, it’s even colder in the room and her nipples feel so hard they almost hurt, but she’s shivering too much to care for how much they’re showing.

She steps onto the stool and then props herself up onto the table, hating the sound of the crinkly paper, and settling as quickly as she can, tucking her hands beneath her thighs and looking anywhere but at the stirrups.

“I know you’re probably a little nervous,” he says, pushing up from the desk and walking over to her. “Did Laura explain any of this to you?”

Mattie shakes her head. “Mom’s kinda… she’s a little…” she trails off, chewing her lip.

“Over-protective?” He adds, one eyebrow tilting up and a little quirk to his mouth. “I noticed that. Quite a few doctor visits in your file.”

Mattie rolls her eyes her spine easing a little as they talk. “Yeah, she’s a bit nuts sometimes. She thinks a stomach ache means I have cancer or something.”

He laughs a little. “Well, better safe than sorry, hm? Although, it’s probably not much fun to deal with.”

She shakes her head, swallowing as he steps closer, standing in front of her, her knees brush against his thigh as his hands come up to touch the side of her neck, just under her jaw. His right hand pressing in a little, his fingers on her pulse in her neck.

He smells good and his hands are warm, but her nerves spike and she knows he can feel the racing of her pulse.

“A little nervous, huh?” he smiles a little, looking down at her before his thumb rubs along her jaw. “There’s nothing to be worried about, I promise.”

Mattie nods, swallowing and willing her body to calm down, to stop being such a _freak—_

“Sorry,” she mumbles, dropping her eyes from his and staring at his belt, a black leather with a silver buckle…and then a little lower—

She tears her eyes away, feeling her cheeks flush. _Don’t think about it,_ she tells herself. But her curiosity is a warm-flush between her hips, in her belly, the idea of his—his—

It’s hard _not_ to think about it, being like, ninety-percent _naked_ and sitting in front of him with his hands on her. Anyone would think about it. Right?

 _Right,_ she tells herself. _It’s dumb brain stuff, that’s all._

Caleb’s fingers travel over her neck, along the back of it, just beneath the baby hairs on her nape, kneading a little; it tilts her head forward and she shifts, pulling her hands out from beneath her thighs and spreading her legs a little as he steps closer. She puts her hands between her thighs, keeping the gown closed, shivering at his fingers and the way his belt rubs hard and warm along the inside of her knees.

“Don’t be sorry, Mattie,” he says warmly, somewhere above her head as his fingers rub lightly over the top of her spine, soft but firm presses over the back of her shoulders, his fingers long and warm, as they move slowly, surely over her skin. She lets her eyes close, trying to relax, his touch soothing.

Eventually, one of his hands curves along the side of her neck, his palm warm and soft, while the other curves over the top of her shoulder, his thumb finding her pulse again and brushing over it lightly.

“There we go,” he murmurs and Mattie’s insides warm at the sound of it. Almost like he’s proud of her, she thinks, or happy with her. She likes it. She tries to relax more.

He tilts her head up with his thumb on her jaw and it’s harder to look at him, but she manages it, sinking her teeth into her cheek and blinking at him. “I’m going to ask you a few questions and I need you to be completely honest with me. Nothing you say will leave this room, I promise. It’s just between you and me.”

Mattie nods.

“Good girl,” he says with a smile and strokes his thumb over her cheek.

 _Oh_ , she thinks as her body flushes warmer, she _really_ _likes that._

When he steps back and his hands fall away, she shivers in the cold without him so close, but he only gives her a small smile and tilts his head. “Lie back for me, sweetheart.”

Mattie does, shifting sideways and setting her head on the little cushion that’s not very soft at the top of the table, pushing at the hem of the gown when it rides up a little, crossing her legs and trying not to think about how she thinks she might be a little bit wet when the pressure of her thighs pressing together gives her a little slow spark that makes that warmth between her hips a little sharper. She does it again, just a little, on reflex, blinking up at the ceiling and trying to not think about what a freak she might be to be wet during this.

It’s not her fault, she thinks, he’s just— his hands—

She chews her lip, feeling it wobble a little and she uncrosses her ankles but keeps her legs closed. She blinks at the ceiling again, trying to push away at the feeling. _Puppies,_ she thinks, _kittens, Mister Marton’s math classes. Saying prayers at Grandma and Grandpa’s._

It helps a little, but then Caleb— _Dr. Ashford_ is in her line of sight and he gives her a small smile, his hands coming up to touch the front of her gown and he slips one of the little hooks open; Mattie’s pulse spikes and she has to bite her cheek, pressing her toes together to stay still.

“Have you done a self-exam at home?”

Mattie shakes her head. Caleb frowns. “Your mother never told you to?”

She shakes her head again and he sighs. “It’s important to do them, you know how to?”

A nod. “We um, we learned a bit in class,” she pushes out, watching his eyes flick down to his hands as he slips another little hook on the gown free.

She tries not to think about being naked, but as the cold air brushes her skin, and Caleb’s knuckles brush against the middle of her chest, it’s impossible not to.

His hair falls a little out of place, thick and dark from where it’s combed and styled. His lashes dark and his skin still a little bit tanned from the summer. She remembers him by the pool at her old house, the strength in his arms when he’d pick her up to throw her in the deep-end. The thickness of his shoulders when she’d climb them or cling on to them, his skin slippery from sunscreen and water.

She swallows at the memory.

She watches his face, his eyes on her chest as he peels open the gown and the cool air brushes over her breasts. Her nipples are still peaked, but she shivers anyway, chewing her lip and twisting her fingers together on her stomach.

His eyes move back up to hers. “Okay?”

She nods even as she itches to cover her chest. To get away from his stupid-nice face and stupid-nice voice and beg her mom to take her back to Dr. Banton with her cold, dry hands and wild grey hair.

Another little hook comes undone, and then another, the cold air on her stomach, the tense, trembling rise and fall of it that she can’t hide.

His hand smooths over it, a slow touch, calming and steady…but it makes her insides curl in the heat that’s starting to throb in time with her heart beat, right between her hips.

His hand, wide and warm, settles on her ribs, his long fingers cupped right around her side, his thumb brushing just along the underside of her breast.

“Anyone ever touch you before, Mattie?” he asks, his blue eyes focusing on hers even as his thumb moves slowly, back and forth along the little curve.

Mattie shakes her head quickly.

“Not sexually active?”

Another headshake, faster than the last. “N-no. I’ve never— I’m not.”

“Good girl,” he says with one of his stupid-nice smiles. “Boy’s your age are probably all pretty stupid, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they’re dumb.” She nods, because they _are_. They’re loud and stupid and say stupid things, like all the time.

Caleb’s hand strokes down her side slowly and then back up over her stomach and back to her ribs again and it helps a little, in a weird way, like she’s being petted like a cat. Which she thinks might make her weirder for enjoying, but she doesn’t care because it’s helping her nerves and she likes it.

He does it again, his pinky brushing along her hip, which sends a weird little spike of tingles through her, but the slow stroke over her stomach and up over her ribs is nice and calming again.

Her nipples are still impossibly hard though and she’s pretty sure the inner-top of her thighs are a little sticky, but she’s too scared to press her thighs together again. She’s not going to do that, she thinks, she’s _not._

“You touch yourself here at all, Mattie?” he asks, his eyes slipping from her face to her chest as his thumb strokes along that small curve along the bottom of her breast.

Mattie shakes her head. “No, there’s not—” she bites her lip and looks away from his hand and thumb on her skin, wiggling her toes a little in her socks.

Caleb’s eyes flick back up to hers, his eyebrow lifting. “There’s not, what?”

She swallows. “Uhm, just… just they’re kinda small? It’d probably— I mean if they were—” She cuts off pushing out a nervous puff of breath. “I dunno.”

He smiles at her, a little quiet huff of laughter that makes his eyes brighter. Her insides like that, too.

“They’re not too small, sweetheart, they fit you perfectly, and…” his eyes sink, moving back to his thumb as it brushes a little higher, her skin prickling at tightening as he brushes _just_ beneath her nipple, “…they’re very cute.”

Oh, she likes that. Even if part of her thinks she shouldn’t. Even as part of her wants to twitch and squirm _just_ a little, to get his thumb just a little higher.

 _That’s not what this is_ , she tells herself. _He’s just trying to make you comfortable. He’s being nice._

“You promise?” she blurts and then winces at herself. “I mean— I—”

He smiles. “I promise, Mattie. They’re perfect.”

Pressing her lips together, she nods, swallowing and shifting a little with the nerves and happy little bubbles that flutter in her stomach from his words.

“You should still be doing home exams, though, cute tits or not,” he says with a tap of his thumb right beside her nipple and a crooked grin that makes her flush for the sight of it and him saying _tits_ so easily.

_Cute tits._ Her heart skips as his words echo in her head.

“It’ll feel a little weird at first, but it’s important to know your own body so that if anything changes, you’ll know, okay?”

She nods quickly, distracted by his thumbnail, the very tip of his thumb touching her nipple. It’s so so hard not to move. She wants to ask him if other girls get like this, needy and squirmy and itchy with a need for _something—_

Like when she’s in her bed at night and sometimes she cups herself through her underwear and rolls her hips into her palm until that feeling just… just fills her up like syrup and she’s left all sticky and warm.

There’s a _please_ in her mouth that she has to bite back, has to press her lips together to keep it in because what if she’s _wrong?_ What if it isn’t normal? What if she’s a freak and no one else gets all hot and sticky from being touched during an exam?

 _Oh god,_ she thinks, her stomach twisting with fear at the thought, when his thumb strokes over her nipple, back and forth over the pebbled, hard peak—

Mattie sucks in a little breath, her toes curling in her socks, uncurling and curling again as the feeling sparks through her.

Caleb does it again, his palm warm on her ribs… and Mattie trembles, squirms and flushes when a little whimper breaks out of her throat.

“It’s alright,” he says lowly. “It’s important to know your body, Mattie. How to touch yourself, hm?”

She nods quickly, her eyes closing and pulling in little breaths that make her belly tremble.

“Lift your arms up for me, sweet girl.”

His voice is warm and a little distant, she’s too focused on his thumb, the way it rubs over the hard peak of her nipple, the way his hand slips a little higher on her ribs until he’s almost cupping her breast, if it wasn’t so small that his hand could cover the whole thing.

She blinks, realising she’s watching again and lifts her arms shakily, squirming a little when the gown lifts too and she drops her arms again, a noise in her throat full of nerves and embarrassment, pushing it back down.

“Here,” he says and pulls her up with his hand on her arm.

Mattie blinks at the change, a little head rush that leaves her pulling in an unsteady breath, her cheeks burning as Caleb slips the gown over her shoulders, peeling her arms out of the loose sleeves before gently easing her back down.

There’s another _good girl,_ that makes her insides all warm again even as his hand leaves her chest and brings her arms up to rest loosely, curving just over her head.

It’s weird how much more naked she feels, even though the gown didn’t really cover anything… but she feels small and very naked, lying on the crinkly paper with the gown bunched around her lower back and draped over her upper thighs.

But then Caleb’s hand is running up her arm, and it’s that slow stroke she likes so much, a little smile on his face that helps calm her down again as his palm strokes up her arm, down again, over her shoulder and down her side, slow and steady like he’s petting her.

“Okay?” he asks, and Mattie nods.

The fingers of his other hand are loose around her wrists, but on the next stroke over her arm, he loosens one wrist and brings it up and places her own hand on her own breast.

 _That’s_ … _different_ , she thinks. And blinks up at him. His thumb presses against her palm as holds his hand along the back of hers, even though it’s much much bigger, and his fingers are much much longer as they slide over the back of hers, but he directs her hand, pressing it slowly and showing her where to knead, where to press… his voice low and warm as he explains it to her.

_Up along here too, there’s breast tissue all along here. Don’t forget._

One breast, and then the other, his hand guiding hers through it all, his eyes moving from her face to her chest, just like hers is moving from his face to his hand over hers.

When it’s done, he rests her palm over her breast, her nipple hard in the center of it. “You think you can do that by yourself?”

Mattie nods and he smiles. “Good girl.”

It’s probably weird to want him to go back to that thumb thing, isn’t it?

 _Probably,_ she decides and swallows the little _please_ that’s sitting on her tongue.

Caleb steps away and Mattie pulls in a steadying breath, leaving her hand on her chest even though his is gone and it doesn’t feel the same at all.

It’s a lot colder without him near her, she realises and shivers, feeling goosebumps on her skin.

She turns her head to look at him, leaning against the desk, his arm and shoulder shifting as he writes something on the clipboard that has her files on it.

His eyes flick up to hers and Mattie looks away, pulling her arm away from her breast and dropping it to fiddle with the wrinkled hem of the gown under her lower back and pooling on either side of her waist.

Her nipples feel really tight and… and _bright_ she thinks, like she can feel everything, the little breeze from the air con, every shift of her own chest… this like, ghost memory of his thumb on her, dragging slowly over it again and again and—

She puffs a breath and pouts at the ceiling. Why can’t she be normal? Would she feel the same stickiness and brightness if Dr Banton had done this?

 _God,_ she hopes not, she thinks with a scrunch of her nose at the ceiling. _Gross._

She hears the soft step of his leather shoes on the hardwood just before he comes back into her line of sight, his hand resting wide and warm on her stomach, sliding just over to her side along the curve of her hip.

“Next part might be a little bit uncomfortable, but I’m going to make it as easy as I can for you, okay?”

Mattie nods, wondering if he’ll pet her again, because that helps. “Okay.”

“What did you learn about this in school?”

Mattie flushes, does he want her to _say it?_

She shakes her head and Caleb’s hand strokes over her side, up from her waist to her ribs and back down to curl over her hip.

It’s— it makes her toes curl, his thumb resting in the curve of her hip, stroking lightly over her skin.

“You understand that I’ll be doing and internal and external exam, Mattie?”

She nods.

“And if you need anything from me, you’ll let me know? If you need me to slow down or stop, just say so, alright, sweetheart?”

Mattie nods and blinks up at him.

His hand shifts, his fingers stinking a little lower, just beneath the bunched gown at her waist, his fingers long and warm over her lower stomach.

“You ever touch yourself down here?”

Her pulse spikes and Mattie bites her lip, her toes curling and easing, fingers twisting into the gown at her sides.

“Mattie?” he urges, his hand stroking up over her stomach, back down to sink below her belly button, between her hips, his fingers dipping below the fabric—

Her whole body tightens up as her mind fills with the idea of him touching her lower. With blinking images of his hand where hers goes sometimes, his long fingers cupping her as she rolls her hips, until that stickiness inside of her polls in her palm and it’s hot and slick as she breathes into her pillow.

She shakes her head, her hand darting to his wrist, a noise in her throat. “I— I don’t know."

Caleb huffs a little breath that might be a laugh, giving her a little fond smile and gently easing her hand off his wrist and setting it on her stomach, just above his hand. “It’s alright if you do, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

She bites her lip, watching him, his eyes on his hand as it dips a little lower before he looks back up to her face.

Mattie nods, quick and short and she likes the little pleased smile he gives her.

“How often?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. Sometimes a lot? Like, when I’m in bed? But then sometimes…not for awhile.”

He nods. “Anything ever feel uncomfortable or strange when you do it? Anything painful for you?”

She shakes her head. “No, just… it’s just…”

He waits, his hand stroking in slow circles over her lower stomach, dipping lower and lower on every slow stroke.

“Wet?” she says and flushes, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head. “Like, pretty wet.”

Caleb chuckles and his other hand touches her cheek and forehead, smoothing some of her fraying ponytail.

“Also very normal, Mattie.” His eyes flick over her face, his smile small and warm and nice. “I’m going to take your gown off, is that okay? It’ll be easier for you”

She hesitates, because then she’ll be completely naked, but it’s really only just covering her lap right now anyway and… and he’s going to be looking and touching her vagina soon anyway, and he’ll see that she’s sticky and wet no matter if she’s got the gown on or not.

She nods. Not sure if she wants to cry or be sick to her stomach with nerves.

“Good girl,” he smiles and then he’s moving away from her face and his hands are on her hips, easing the fabric of the gown down, his hands warm on her skin, over the curve of her hips, the outside of her thighs, down her legs… she lifts her feet a little, letting him pull it off, and she clenches her eyes shut as the paper crinkles beneath her and the cold air pushes over all of her but mostly right against the sticky hotness between her thighs, where she’s wet and slippery and desperately wants to roll over and cup herself until it feels syrupy instead of needy.

Caleb’s hand touches her ankle, bending her knee up with a soft press of his hand in the soft underside of it. He does the same thing to her other leg and it makes the brush of cold air worse, and Mattie reaches down to cover herself, a fraying sound in her throat.

There’s a huff of laughter and when she blinks at him, he’s smiling at her, standing near her hips and pulling her bent knees into his side to run his hand over her outer thigh, his arm warm and heavy and nicer than the cold on her skin. His hand soothes over her thigh, curving just a little onto her bottom as he follows the curve of her leg and strokes his hand over her hip before following the same path back again. His fingers trialing a little closer to the slickness that’s leaking between her thighs, his fingers long enough that he has to notice when the tips of them slip between her legs, brushing through that stickiness before easing back up her thigh.

He works his fingers under her wrist, and it doesn’t take much to tug her hands away from where they’re covering herself, and he brings them back to her stomach, a gentle, but firm little pressure she knows means, _keep them there._

“Someone tell you to shave?” he asks, his eyes sinking between her legs, as he runs his hand over her other thigh, and even though her legs aren’t spread, it’s obvious she shaved, obvious she’s wet—a little shine that sits on her skin just where her legs are held together, hiding the… the full sight of her.

She shakes her head. “No, uhm… my friends… everyone does it. I thought… I should.”

His hand strokes, sinking a little further between the back of her thighs, brushing so close to that achy spot in her she twitches, her hips shifting as she stutters a breath. His fingers spread stickiness over her skin, on the next slow stroke over her outer thigh, she can see herself on the tips of his fingers, shiny and wet. Her whole body flushes.

“You don’t have to, but a lot of people like it nowadays.”

“Do you— like it?” she blurts out before she bites her cheek and feels her cheeks burn. “I mean— sorry— I—” she tries to laugh but it gets caught in her throat.

He smiles at her, his eyes bright with it. “It’s alright, don’t apologize, you can ask me whatever you want, sweetheart, you know that.” His hand pats her thigh, but its more like her bottom, the curve of her ass cheek jiggles a little under the tap of his hand. “And yes, I do like it.”

She feels… good? Proud? Something. She isn’t sure what it is, just that it makes her lower stomach heavy and makes her heart pound. She nods and chews her lip. “Okay.”

“You ever put anything inside yourself, Mattie? When you touch yourself? Your fingers or a toy?”

She isn’t sure if she could get any hotter or colder, or whatever it is her body is feeling again, strung tight and squirmy and loose all at once. Flushed up and so achy it almost _hurts_.

She shakes her head.

She wants him to touch her nipples again. They haven’t stopped being so hard and pebbled that every shift of her body makes them hurt a little bit too.

But that’s definitely not part of the exam.

He showed her how to do the breast exam, and the next part will be that too, won’t it?

To show her how to feel for anything weird, anything wrong with her.

She licks her lips. “No, I just… uhm… rub.”

“Rub,” he says and his eyes flick over her.

Mattie nods and squirms, trying not to think about how much she wants to do it right now. Right here. God, she’s messed up, she thinks. _So messed up._

“Do you… do you need to know that part? It’s embarrassing,” she pushes it out, looking down at her lap, her fingers twisting together on her stomach.

“Why don’t you show me, hm? And we can make sure you aren’t doing anything wrong or that might hurt you over time.”

 _Oh god,_ she thinks, and shakes her head even though she _wants_ to. “Is this… I mean—are you sure?”

He pats her ass again, his smile perfect and almost mean in how handsome he is while she’s…scrawny and cold and blotchy with embarrassment and… and whatever else she’s feeling.

“Positive,” he says and takes his arm off of her knees, and stepping back a little, letting her knees fall to one side to hide the wetness between her legs, even though he must be able to see it from where he’s standing, anyway.

She chews her lip, fighting the urge to cover herself, looking at him as he looks down her body before settling on her face.

She wonders what he sees when he looks at her, if she’s too small, if she’s too pale, even though she’s still got a few tan lines from summer. A few freckles across her nose.

She wonders if he sees the girl he knew three years ago, or is she’s just another patient he’s patiently easing through a weird, embarrassing exam so he doesn’t have to have them crying all over him.

She might’ve cried with Dr. Banton. In her cold room despite all the kid-posters and bright colours. She was nice and cheerful, but she didn’t stroke Mattie’s skin the same way, and she likes that bit a lot.

It helps.

“Come on,” he urges, and touches her knee lightly, pushing it open just a bit.

She looks at him for another minute, worrying her lip before she sucks it up and gives into the fact that she really wants to do it anyway, as embarrassing as it might be to do it in front of Caleb when she thinks she’s going to be thinking about his hands, instead of just like… the _feeling_ of it like she normally does.

She rolls over, the paper crinkling loudly, making her cheeks burn as she curves her left arm under her cheek and cups herself with her right hand.

“What are—” Caleb’s voice cuts off, and Mattie turns her nose into the space between the table and her arm, her breath puffing warmly as her eyes close and she squirms until the heel of her palm is pressed up tightly against herself and she can roll her hips into it.

She’s stickier than she’s ever been before, slicker, and it makes it hard at first, to get her weight right where she wants it, but she’s gasping as soon as she squirms into the right angle, because she’s slick and hot and it’s already sticky on her wrist.

Her fingers tear into the paper and Caleb is silent behind her but she knows he’s there and watching and she _does_ think about his hands, about his thumb on her nipple, about his smile and his shoulders in the pool.

She startles a little at the feel of his hand setting warm and wide on the back of her thigh, his voice low and… and rougher, she thinks, than she’s ever heard it before. “Sweet girl,” he groans, as his hand slides up and over her ass cheek. “Is this how you do it?”

Mattie gasps and nods, itching at the idea of his fingers being somewhere else, of them petting her between her legs, of his hand being the one she’s grinding against—

 _Oh god_ — she thinks, she wants that so much it tears a whimper out of her chest.

His hand strokes over her ass, up over the shifting of her hips, along her spine, slow and steady. His fingers firm and soft all at once, his palm hot, gliding over the notches of her spine, up to her neck where he cups it and presses down, just a little.

She hitches a breath, something throbs inside of her and she squirms against her hand harder.

Caleb watches her, she can feel it, his fingers threading into her hair, scraping lightly over the back of her scalp, back down her spine, his palm hot on her ass cheek, rubbing over it before sliding around the back of her thigh, between her legs, his fingers brushing against her hand where her hips curve up and she cups herself.

Her ass lifts a little more, her hips twitching up on reflex, like her body just… just decided he needed better access.

She tucks her face in her arm, breath puffing from her mouth, whimpering as his fingers slip over hers, pushing lightly at them.

“You should focus more here,” he says, in that new low tone that somehow makes the achy thing between her hips hotter. “Right here.”

His other hand spreads over her hip, angling her hips higher, her ass lifting in a way she wants to be embarrassed by, but she doesn’t think it’s possible to be any more embarrassed than she is.

He pushes his fingers against hers until their slipping and sliding over the little nub—

Mattie sobs out some sort of noise, something hitching and needy and Caleb soothes her with a hush and a slow stroke of his other hand over her lower stomach, which helps ease her ass up a little more and makes her fingers slip steadily over that nub.

 _Clit_ , she thinks. She knows what it is.

The word makes her stomach tense and twist even more as his fingers press sticky over the back of hers, encouraging her to rub, to focus on that nub and ride out that too bright, too sparking feelings it spreads through her.

It’s so much more intense than just grinding.

Almost too much. Every rub and squirming roll of her hips, every pass of their fingers…

She doesn’t know how long she squirms into it, lost in the slide of their fingers, slick and wet sliding over her, but her body gets bright and brighter, her toes curling and body squirming and trembling… until she hitches his name and chokes out a little _please—_

She isn’t even sure what the please is for, she just needs it. Needs him to do something—

Caleb hushes her with a soft, soothing voice, his and sliding away and over her ass, and she whines, pushing her ass up like she can chase his fingers, when she feels his other hand sink beneath her stomach and over her mound, his forearm pushing under her as it flexes and props her up more. He gently pulls her hand out from between her legs and replaces it with his own. She grips at the table, her fingers and palm slippery, squeaking against the leather cushioned table where she grips the edge of it.

“Caleb—” she sobs, “Please—”

He shushes her again, the fingers of his hand beneath her slip between her legs, and he strokes her once, his hand so much bigger and warmer than hers, tearing a noise out of her before he eases his fingers back, pulling her hips a little higher as he spreads his fingers and opens her up—

Mattie doesn’t know what the sound in her throat is, but it’s high and reedy and she’s gasping into the leather, her cheek sliding damp and hot over it, the paper ripped beneath her hands; her fingers twist into the bare leather, pushing herself up and back, her knees spreading wider, her spine arching, her nipples sticking to the paper that’s bunching beneath her as she presses her chest down, trying to get his fingers back on her.

“Caleb—”

“Shh, sweet girl, I've got you,” he says all warm and low just as his fingers rub over her, sliding over her clit as his other hand holds her open, and Mattie _sobs—_

Pushing back against his hand, squirming and needy and ready to _burst_ apart. It’s nothing like that syrupy feeling when she grinds on her palm. The pads of his fingers rub and rub and _rub_ right against her clit and there’s no escaping it, no twisting away from it sparking through her body with the way her knees are spread and the way his fingers hold her open letting him rub right against it no matter how she twists and squirms.

It’s too much. _Too much._

She shakes her head and sobs out his name again, her hand flying down to grip his wrist beneath her, her cheek mushed into the leather as her spine arches and her hips twitch into his touch.

There’s no chance of easing his grip, and her fingers slip against it, finding her own slickness running down his hand, his wrist sticky with it.

His fingers don’t stop, his arm flexing beneath her holding her up even more as her knees slide wider, trembling too much to keep herself up. She isn’t sure if she’s trying to pull away or spread her legs more. To give him more of herself or slink away from the feelings building inside of her because it’s so _much_ —

Caleb keeps rubbing, his voice this low wave around her _, that’s it, sweet girl, that’s it—_ and it’s still too much, but she’s burning up and his fingers feel so big and good and she’s soaked and— it hits her slowly and all at once, like this electric snap in her stomach that turns to a liquid heat that makes her whole body tense up and then liquefy, nothing more than quivering muscles and sparks and _too much too much too much—_

His fingers slow, rubbing her through it, even if she whines and squirms and hitches choked gasps into the leather beneath her cheek because it feels like a lot, him still touching her after that big rush—

“That’s it,” he hums, splaying the hand he had holding her open over her lower stomach and letting her settle against it. “Such a good girl for me, Mattie.”

She likes that a lot, she thinks, and twitches and hitches a little gasp when he rubs her clit one more time before easing his fingers away to just stroke them between her legs instead.

 _Her whole body is syrup_ , she thinks, sticky and warm and _nice._ Her pulse slowing even as she sighs little breaths as his fingers stroke her, pet her, just like she wanted him to before.

It’s _nice_.

She isn’t sure if she should like it, if it’s a normal thing to like because it’s kind of gross—it’s all sticky and slippery and wet. But she likes the way it feels, how sticky and hot it is between her legs, how hot and wet his long fingers are, stroking over and through her as her body goes boneless and sated against the exam table, his hand still beneath her belly.

Caleb kisses her shoulder, his breath warm on her skin. She likes that too.

That’s not part of a normal exam, is it?

She wonders if it’s because he knows her or if maybe he’s just trying to help her relax before continuing on. She doesn’t know what to do with the idea there’s _more._

That he’s still supposed to examine her and this was just… just a lesson? Like the breast exam?

She doesn’t know what to do with the idea he does this to other people.

Does he?

Or is it because he knows her and her mom and was best friends with her dad that he’s being nice and patient with her? That he’s taking the time to teach her?

Her mind is sluggish and syrupy, and when Caleb’s hand eases out from between her legs, she whines a bit for the loss of it.

But his hand, sticky and warm, settles on her shoulder and he turns her as he pulls his hand out from beneath her, rolling her onto her back before cupping her cheek with those same sticky-wet fingers. He rests his weight on his forearm, his other hand somewhere above her head. She thinks it must not be comfortable for him, for how tall he is and all, but his hand just strokes over her cheek like it doesn’t matter.

“Okay?” he asks, with a crooked smile that remind her of watching him at BBQ’s and dinner parties talking to all the women and other wives who flirted with him; she knows now they weren’t just _talking_ to him because he was _cool_ , they _like-liked him._ And _wanted_ him _._

It makes her pout a little, a weird feeling at the idea of him doing this to any of them—

Were any of them his patients?

Are any of them his patients _now_?

Caleb looks at her, brushing her hair back from her damp cheeks. “What’s the pout for?”

She shakes her head and wants to ask him to put his hand back between her legs but she isn’t sure if that’s weird. If this was just a lesson than asking him to keep going would be weird, right? And if he still has more of exam to do than he probably wants to keep going and finish up.

And God, her mom is in the main room _working._

Mattie flushes, and turns her cheek into his forearm, it’s just as warm and hard as she remembers it being when she was younger.

“I’m thinking we should schedule another appointment for the other part of the exam, hm?” he says with his eyes shifting over her face and his palm smoothing some fly away hairs from her ponytail. “I don’t think your up for the other half of this today.”

So that was all exam, then? Just normal… normal exam stuff?

Her heart sinks into her stomach and she nods, because she definitely isn’t. She’s tired and still feels boneless, like she’s been sleeping in the sun after a day in the water. She doesn’t want to _move,_ let alone have him look at her after she—

After she made a _mess_ on his fingers and exam table.

When all she wants is for him to pet her again while she’s still warm and sticky and not cold and sticky.

But that’s definitely really weird, isn’t it?

He must see something on her face because he cups her cheek again, and her cheek feels like it’s burning beneath his palm with how flushed she is.

“Any question, Mattie, I mean it. It stays between you and me.”

It feels weird to be so naked when he’s so nicely dressed, barely a wrinkle on him, except for his forearm that was curled—

Her insides tighten, and Mattie blinks at the feeling, at the memory of his arm curled beneath her—his fingers spreading—the want to do it all again swells up all hot and tingly between her hips.

That doesn’t usually happen when it’s just her grinding on her hand, normally she just… goes to sleep, warm and a little sticky and trying not to feel guilty or embarrassed about what she just did.

She isn’t sure what she’s feeling right now, not…not guilty, exactly. _Embarrassed_ , probably, because she’s pretty sure she made a mess all over his table.

And hand.

She nods, worrying her lip, her mind tumbling through questions and worries and wants like they’re as sticky and slick as her thighs are.

“Was this—” she swallows and pushes her face into his bicep, breathing in the smell of his clothing and cologne. It helps. “You do this for a lot of girls— uh, patients? When they’re nervous? Or uhm—” she swallows the _needy and wet_ that she thinks describes her best.

He blinks once and then smiles.

 _“Oh, sweetheart,_ ” he hums, and spreads his hand over her cheek, using his thumb to turn her head to face his more. “No. Most exams are not quite like this. You’re a very special girl, Mattie and I think you deserve to feel good.”

She looks down, trying not to show how happy that makes her, but he must know anyway.

“I like making you feel good,” he says and brushes his thumb over her cheekbone. “Do you like me making you feel good?”

She nods. Thinking again about asking him to pet her some more. _Maybe next time_ , she thinks and smiles up at him, her insides tingling at the idea of it.

She’ll probably be nervous next time, and he’ll help her again, won’t he?

Mattie tilts her head up and presses a kiss to his cheek, a little laugh in her chest that’s half nerves and half a needy little want for more.

* * *

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it, if you you're keen for more, drop a quick comment? :)


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